The Big Shell: Eye of the Beholder
by Radical Edward1
Summary: The Big Shell incident through the eyes of the participants.
1. First Breech: Solid Snake

Chapter One  
  
The ringing of my RUX (Codec) unit pierced the silence through my ears. I tapped   
into the Codec through nanocommunications, only to hear the voice of my old   
friend, Otacon. Hal Emmerich. We joined with a group named "Philanthropy", an   
organization dedicated to destroying every Metal Gear model.  
  
"Snake, do you read me? Snake?"  
  
"What's up?"  
  
"Snake, what is your position?  
  
"The connecting bridge between struts A and B."  
  
The Big Shell. It was a large facility created to clean up the chemicals  
from the tanker accident two years ago. Or that's what the Patriots want the   
people to think. Me and Otacon, we knew the real deal. Right under our feet was   
the newest Metal Gear model: Arsenal Gear.  
  
"Snake, proceed to the Strut C Dining Hall. Our new contact should be   
waiting there."  
  
"Gotcha. I'm heading into Strut B now. I can hear gunfire, so it might   
take a while."  
  
"Just hurry up, okay? It won't be long before this place is at the bottom of the New York harbor."  
  
Back to reality. I stood on the steel bridge, about 130 feet from the water below. It would be quite a fall if I were to go over the edge. I looked to the entrance of Strut B. It wasn't that far from my current position, but it was farther than I needed it to be. There were Cypher-T's around. Military scout units. These weren't the standard UAV units. These had guns mounted on a lower camera. I had to watch myself. Crouched low, unseen, I slowly inched along the rail of the bridge. The gunfire had ceased. What had happened in there? Had my teammates been slaughtered? That's right, I was part of SEAL Team 10, or so my uniform-no, disguise, had told me. It was a small front to sneak into the facility. The SEALs weren't going to be a problem. It was the Gurlukovich boys I was worried about.  
  
Olga Gurlukovich, leader of a private Russian army, assisting the terrorists. "Dead Cell", these ones were called. Freaks, at best. Identical to FOXHOUND. The soldiers were aiding them with this raid. They would have been able to do it alone. I guess they needed pawns to keep the area clean. They weren't much of a challenge on the tanker, but now they are trucking around supressed AKS-74u's. There were plenty of them infesting the complex. It doesn't make matters better seeing as I was linked to the death of Sergei Gurlukovich, Olga's father. That's right, I was blamed for the sinking of the tanker two years ago. I'm wanted for terrorism. No worries, though. For the past two years, I've been dead. 


	2. Mark of the Mission: Raiden

Chapter 2  
  
It was slightly warm out. Seagulls cried overhead. The smell of salt water flooded my nostrils.  
  
"No guards..." I spoke to myself.  
  
I glanced cautiously at my surroundings. There were two entrances and an elevator. The easiest passage was through the left gate. There was some space between the gate and the ground for me to crawl through. I slowly approached the chain link fence. My ribs quickly met the cold ground as I slowly pulled my body under the fence. Once on the other side, I pulled myself to my feet and slowly approached the door. Soon enough I found myself on my back. I raised my head a bit and looked around.  
  
"Seagull shit."  
  
A large smudge of turd was spread across the ground, leading to my suit. I pulled myself to my feet once again, and stretched for a moment. I took this time to study the Big Shell. In the distance, I could see a Cypher-T patrolling the A-B connectiong bridge. A loud rumble vibrated through the air as the Cypher-T exploded in a storm of jagged shards of metal. A large clump of zilch fell into the sea below. I quickly turned to the Strut A entrance and jogged in. Down the stairs. Against a wall. I peeked the corner, spotting a single guard.  
  
My hand reached for my modified M9 Beretta. I pulled it from a holdster built into my suit. I pulled a dart from an ammo box at my side and loaded it into the pipe, then engaging the gun. Safety off. I turned the corner just as he turned and walked away. I brought my laser sights up to his head, then down to his spine. My finger tightened on the trigger. A quiet "pfft" was heard as the dart zipped through the air and burried its needle into the guard's neck. He gasped and grabbed the needle, yanking it from his neck. He glanced at it and fell to his knees. His face then smashed into the floor.  
  
I approached the sleeping guard and stepped over him, to avoid waking him up. I pressed up against the opposite wall as before, and peeked the next corner. I spotted the red door that led to Strut B. Almost there. I lept the corner and sped to the door. It slided to the side, revealing a hallway to the bridge. My Codec rang.  
  
"Raiden, are you there? This is Colonel Campbell. Raiden?"  
  
"I'm here."  
  
"What's your position?"  
  
"The connecting bridge between struts A and B. Someone pegged a Cypher-T on its patrol route. SEALs?"  
  
"Maybe. Be careful."  
  
"Alri-"  
  
I cut my voice short to the sound of gunfire. I hurried to the bridge. Nothing was patrolling at the time, so I ran to the center. I stopped to make sure everything was clear. It was. No more delays. This isn't VR. I ran to the entrance to Strut B. The door slip open. I wasn't too sure what I saw, but it soon was the mark of the beginning of the mission. 


	3. Vamped: SEAL Team

Chapter 3  
  
It's too late for me ro run. For I have no soul to carry me. But a few minutes ago I was alive, running, fighting. Now I am nothing but a corpse. But I still have a story to tell. It was a damn stupid mission. The Cap'n knew that we wouldn't be able to fight "Dead Cell". Fuckers can't be hit. Just like the bastard that killed me.  
  
I raised my fist to halt my team. They all pressed the wall next to the door. I opened the door and hit the side. My team went into Strut B. I followed somewhere in the middle. It was quiet. We went one step at a time. We proceeded around the corner of some machinery. I quicky turned my head to the right side. I heard something move. My team copied and aimed. We were equipped with M4s. Nothing was there. Something moved behind me. I heard a gurgle. I turned and saw the first one. My rear guard was standing behind the team, blood pouring to the floor below him. There was a large slash in his belly. His small intestine found its way to the cut and began to slide to the floor like a snake. He moaned and fell to his knees. His face hit the floor. He was dead.  
  
The team panicked. I ordered them to secure the perimeter. The team left. I was with our second assault. I proceeded to walk down a small hallway, when I heard gunfire. We ran back to the room. Two more were dead. The third was firing into the corner. I turned to the corner and saw the enemy. What was he? He simply deflected each bullet with a combat knife. I whipped out my M4 and sporadically pulled the trigger. Bullets sprayed all over the wall in the corner. He was gone. I heard a gasp and turned to my first assault, the one who first fired. Two small throwing knives protruded from his right eye. He fell.  
  
I spotted the figure once again and started firing. My second assault soon found a throwing knife penetrating his mid-section, piercing a lung. He vomited blood onto his own feet and fell. I nearly vomited too. I ran back to where we entered, and spotted a man with gray hair. Then I felt a hand grasp my chin and hoist my head up. I looked down and spotted a blood spattered blade. It pierced the right side of my throat about three inches. It was then dragged across to the other side of my throat. I fell to my knees. Blood sprayed from my jugular and smaller arteries up onto the ceiling. It was almost like it was raining crimson water. My vision went black. I was dead. 


End file.
